Why shatter at his final breath?
A candle lit is meant to melt.
Go ask the stars his new address.
You’ll find them when no city’s left.
Don’t flood your day in misery.
Its course will change once you correct.
Forget your dream. He won’t come back.
You rubbed your eyes, that Misra slept.
Translated from my Hindi poem, आगे बढ़ो
āge baDHo
kyon bikhar gayā unkī sāns nikalte hi
bujh jānā to tey hei charāG ke jalte hi
sitāron se pucH le unkā nayā patā
wo milte hein seher se dūr chalte hi
yūn māyūsī mein din tabāh na kar
tere din badlenge tere badalte hi
bhūl us Khāb ko fir dikhegā nahīn
miT gayā wo Misra tere ānkh malte hi
Minakhi Misra 